It’s my happy place to put it simply. It’s where I feel at peace. I love every part of it. The sound of the waves. The sand between my toes. The breeze ruffling my hair. The saltiness of the water on my lips. The sun on my skin. Looking out and seeing nothing but water for miles and miles.
I fell in love with the ocean at a young age. Trips to Florida always included St. Pete’s Beach. Summers in Texas meant South Padre Island for a day. Family vacations to Puerto Vallarta called for beach days with the cousins. In my mind, vacations were never complete without the ocean.
There’s something about my feet in the water that just makes everything around me disappear. I’m not worried about school or work or anything. It’s just me and the waves. I’ve been to the ocean so many times, but it takes my breath away every time as if it were my first time there.
When I was younger, I loved building sand castles. Collecting shells. Cartwheeling in the sand. Now, I love just listening to the waves. I love hearing the water crash against the shore over, and over, and over. I love laying with my eyes closed and feeling the warmth of the sun tanning my skin. I love hearing the sounds of seagulls flying over me. Not that I wouldn’t still be up for building sandcastles or collecting seashells.
The beach is my happy place. Where I feel alive and at peace. Where I’m not worried about the outside world. Where, at least for the time being, I feel relaxed. No school projects. No strict professors. No work. Just me and my waves.